


Two Minutes For Roughing

by ok_thanks



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BUT YOURE GETTING IT ANYWAYS, Buck is the ultimate hockey himbo tbh, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, ill see myself out, its me. im the one person, its only emo for a second, no beta ever i just be writing shit n vibing, the 118 is family and a team in every universe that could ever exist, the absolute niche interests of my current favorite things, the hockey AU that literally NO ONE asked for, wrote this for an audience of one, you dont need to understand hockey for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29915946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ok_thanks/pseuds/ok_thanks
Summary: They trade for a winger after Buck’s second season. When he walks into the dressing room a few days later, Buck freezes in his place.Chim and Bobby are huddled in the corner, openly staring from their stalls.“Who the hell is that?”Bobby simply shrugs. “Eddie Diaz. New winger out of Dallas.”or: the hockey AU that literally NO ONE asked for
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han
Comments: 34
Kudos: 139





	Two Minutes For Roughing

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my favorite tweet, courtesy of tyler seguin: "Only steers and queers in Texas, and I'm not a cow" because i think Buck and resident pretty boy of the league, tyler seguin, have simply fantastic and dramatic origin stories.
> 
> This is the result of me being drunk on friday and thinking what if there was 9-1-1 but hockey??? and absolutely no one on twitter stopping me. so now, two days later, we have this whether you like it or not <3
> 
> You really don't need to understand hockey at all to read this but i put notes at the end about some hockey references made (without spoilers)!!
> 
> but if u dont like hockey :/ or a hockey au, i have written other things! :)

Buck doesn’t like Eddie, okay? But that’s not where it starts. 

Buck likes Pittsburgh. That’s how everything unravels. That’s the catalyst. 

He likes silver plated bands, he likes comfortable nights out with grey goose funneling down his throat. He likes home. 

There’s the thrill of it all, black and gold melting into something electric, something addicting and vibrantly so, something just out of his reach. Buck likes the high. He likes chasing the feeling of something more. 

Where there’s silver, thirty-five pounds of it, there’s temptation and an open mouth. There’s Buck’s throat bared, begging for the sickly sweet slide of more vodka down his throat, more adrenaline pumping through his veins. His ears ring, his mouth dries. 

Buck needs attention, now as much as ever. 

That’s why he kept playing. He’d come back from practice after taking a stick to the face, and his parents would dote on him. Maddie would herd him into the bathroom and bandage his wounds, tutting when she searched Buck’s bruised skin. 

His parents didn’t come to the games, but it didn’t matter to Buck. He sprained his wrist, then his ankle, broke some fingers, and his parents were paying attention to him, finally paying attention to him. 

Maddie knew what he was doing, she always did. 

Buck was never great at school. They reminded him of this with backhanded compliments. But hockey got him into college, they liked that well enough. He picked a school based on its proximity to Boston, to Maddie. Michigan is great and he knows how it would look. It’s the second stop of the NTDP pipeline. But Ann Arbor didn’t have Maddie. And that was reason enough for Buck to commit to the Terriers.

He left after a year, and Buck knows his parents didn’t like that. But Buck was antsy. He got drafted and had a big contract being offered to him. The NCAA isn’t the NHL and the choice was obvious. 

Pittsburgh wasn’t all that far. It was close enough to home, but far enough away to Hershey that it didn’t feel choking. 

— — —

He wasn’t always the tallest guy on the ice, but he was big. He was strong and could throw his weight around. 

On the ice, Buck was important. He’d gloat after scoring goals because people were cheering. For those few minutes, he was important. He was everything his team needed. Buck liked belonging. He needed to belong. 

It’s the same as any addiction. The focus is intense and all consuming when he succeeds. His heart beats so fast and so violently. He wants to bottle up that feeling and never let it go. 

God, when he lifted the Cup. There was nothing else like that. The city loved them so much, they loved him. 

But it wasn’t _real._ It wasn’t permanent. His shots stopped connecting every time and he was getting into stupid fights. He was chasing out guys who were bigger than him and spewing chirps at them that were dangerous and inviting to nothing but trouble. 

When that feeling stopped, the comedown was brutal. Buck was spiraling and he couldn’t stop. He was indulging a multitude of sins. 

People were easy, they always were. He’d flash a smile at a bar and buy them some drinks. Buck would flirt and he would do it well. Cocky grins. Dark eyes, half lidded. Casual but purposeful touches. 

The come down from that was hard and fast. He’d be in bed feeling progressively worse. Dirtier than when he started picking up. Used. Aching. _Tired_.

It wasn’t always like this. Buck was young, Buck was happy. He remembers how easily his wrist could snap and the white thread would bend and bulk against his strength. 

Buck was strong. He was important. He was wanted. 

Maddie watches him warily. Her lips press together and Buck recognizes the assessing glint in her eye as she sizes Buck up when they go to dinner after games.

Buck needs to remember before. Brown and black and gold. The penguin on his chest, the emblem seeping into his chest. Buck needs to think he was strong, he was strong enough for Pittsburgh. 

He needs to think this, because if not he’ll think of nothing else. 

He’s twenty-four but he can feel every ache inside him, he can feel every bruise waiting to bloom against his rib cage. 

He feels phantom metal against his palms, thirty five pounds against sweaty grips, thirty five pounds of expectations. Not once. Twice. He did it twice, but they threw Buck out anyway. 

It starts as easily as it stops. You have it for a moment, and in the next it’s tracking you down, it’s begging for more. 

— — — 

That last summer was bright and brutal. 

What can Buck say? He indulges. He sees the people egging him on. One more shot, they say. One more drink, one more mistake. We’ve come so far already. 

Buck’s drowning in the glow of the off-season. He works out half heartedly. He should train, he knows better than to completely abandon that. He likes the stretch of his muscles around sprints, the way his legs cry out against stick handling courses. 

“I love you.” That’s what Maddie said when they crashed and burned out of the conference finals. Who needs the Leafs? They get swept by Tampa in the next round anyway.

Maddie keeps texting as June rolls on. She’s trying to check Buck’s ego, but he’s slipping, slipping fast. 

There’s talk around town. Someone says the GM won’t like this, the GM won’t like that. But Buck’s drunk and working on pure adrenaline. He says how could they take me, how could they possibly think of trading me?

Maddie listens patiently, but she sees through him. Buck can’t put up a front for Maddie, he never could.

“Mom called again,” Maddie tells him. Buck stops listening. He can’t handle another voice scolding him.

He needs freedom, he needs fun without the undercurrent of judgement.

Then it’s the Fourth of July and someone’s babbling in his ear about shotgunning, maybe some shooters of Crown. But it doesn’t feel so funny when the sparklers fizzle out and Buck feels the weight of the receiver against his left ear. 

_It’s me_ , Buck says. _I’m listening. I’m here._

The words aren’t kind after that. The tone is different. It’s professional and stiff in a foreign and threatening way. 

We just think —

It would be for the best —

Buck can’t breathe anymore. 

His chest is heaving and cycling through damp exhales of early July beach breezes. It feels like someone’s socked him in the gut. He can’t breathe, not fully, not yet. 

Buck’s laid across the sheets when his phone buzzes. He’s been here all night, not quite asleep but not quite awake. He’s watching the fan spin endlessly above him when he accepts the call. 

It’s Bobby Nash. Buck knows him: Veteran player. Tired eyes, but wry, happy grins with the C on his chest. Captain in Minnesota, Captain in LA. Funny how that works out. 

“I’ll take you to lunch when you fly in. Do you know when your flight will land?” Bobby’s voice isn’t neutral like management’s was last night. He’s trying to be embracing, kind, like he doesn’t know or care about Buck’s reputation. 

Buck doesn’t have a flight. He hasn’t thought about having to pack up and take a red eye to find an apartment, smile for photos in a starched black and white jersey. Perfunctory social media posts, and Buck praying the articles will talk about the Cup rings rather than the mistakes. He’s seen how the media has turned on him before. 

Scratched for missing team breakfast. Rumors of late nights, closing down bars. All those photos from the parades when his eyes were glassy with things other than tears. 

He fumbles through the phone call. Bobby’s voice is tired at the end like he can’t keep pretending to be so generous when Buck won’t meet him halfway. 

“You have my number,” Bobby tells him. “You won’t feel this way forever. Call me when you land.”

— — — 

He’s been to the Staples Center, but not often. All he remembers are blank hotel walls that mirror those of every city. He knows plain dressing rooms, team buses, and heavy breaths in the penalty box. The tarmac after long flights. 

It doesn’t feel like home. It’s nothing like Western Pennsylvania. There’s no rivers meeting each other at a point, bridges weaving around the bends of downtown. There’s no changing seasons. It’s wildfires instead of snow. Santa Ana winds instead of nor'easters. 

Buck gets an apartment and leaves it bare and half-lived in. He puts up some photos in the living room. Him and Maddie on draft day. Him at Maddie at her graduation. Him and Maddie. Sweet things, nothing black and gold. 

— — — 

The first season is hard. Everyone walks on eggshells around Buck like he’s a ticking time bomb. 

They know he doesn’t want to be there, they’re not stupid. But where would Buck go? He wants Pittsburgh, but not the way they left off. 

He wants how things used to be. Easy and positive. 

He wants to fight back, he wants to have this piece of him, the piece that says _I can do this_ and _I’m ready, I can fight back._ He lost it in those last seasons in Pittsburgh and it feels futile searching for it again. 

He’s playing well, but his behavior is indifferent. He needs to stop. Buck knows the optics of this. 

Young star who couldn’t hang after early success. Arrogance, binge drinking, too many nights with too many girls. He isn’t playing nice with his new teammates. Everyone looks at him like he should feel lucky to be here, that anyone even wants him anymore. 

He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. The way he’s presenting himself? It’s like he’s begging to be traded. Again. Shipped off to another city he never cared to think much about.

He wants Pittsburgh to see him and realize they made a mistake, that Buck is good and strong and _valuable_. 

He wants to be accepted. He wants to stop feeling so alone. 

— — — 

He tries to be better. He stays longer at workouts and attempts to make friends with some of the guys. It takes a while, but by the All Star break there starts being cautious invites to dinners on the road. Bobby takes him out when they hit St. Paul on a back-to-back. He ventures past discussion of their power play and tells him about Athena and their little family back in Los Angeles. 

It’s small, but it’s a start. 

He likes their goalie best. Mostly, Buck likes the way his nickname isn’t as stupid as it might otherwise be. Chimney. Chim, after awhile. Bobby or him won’t tell Buck where the name came from, but it’s teasing when they say so. 

It knocks Buck on his ass when he realizes it’s friendly. 

Hen’s amazing, one of the team’s trainers from the medical staff. She’s going to med school and when they travel, Buck sits with her on the plane and they run through flash cards and sometimes he’ll score her practice tests. 

Hen and Chim don’t care about what happened back East. They welcome him in and it finally feels like he’s part of the team. 

Buck’s slowly getting better. His scoring picks up and he’s holding steady by leading the team in assists instead of penalty minutes. Bobby’s approval is evident when he stops making rash decisions. 

When Bobby says “no more fighting,” he tacks on a “because we can’t ruin that pretty face,” instead of a stern, cutting gaze. 

No more hooking, no more tripping. Maybe some slashing, but just when they play Philadelphia because seriously, he’s not in Pennsylvania anymore, but fuck the Flyers is a motto that transcends state lines. 

He doesn’t go to the box as much, but still more than Chim or Bobby. But when he settles back on the bench, there’s friendly nudges. 

“Show off,” Chim grins. 

Goal right out the box. Buck’s smile is splitting his face. 

“Making up for lost time.” Chim’s rolling his eyes but laughing slightly when he hops over the boards for their next shift. 

— — — 

They trade for a winger after Buck’s second season. It shouldn’t be a surprise. A couple guys retired and a few were lost to waivers and stubborn contract negotiations. There’s an open slot on Buck’s right wing and the hole needs filling. 

Maddie comes back the same day the trade goes through, so to be fair, he’s more than a little distracted and misses the fanfare surrounding the new guys arrival. 

Not that he isn’t thrilled to see Maddie, but he didn’t expect to come back from workouts and see her frying eggs in his kitchen.

When he walks into the dressing room a few days later, Buck freezes in his place. 

Chim and Bobby are huddled in the corner, openly staring from their stalls. 

“Who the hell is that?”

Bobby simply shrugs. “Eddie Diaz. New winger out of Dallas.”

Buck doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Chim looks downright delighted by whatever’s happening. 

Buck’s watching this guy strip off his shirt, strap on his pads and compression shirt with indifferent focus. Buck isn’t blind. He’s _hot._ It’s infuriating. 

Hen’s slid into the room at some point. 

“That’s your guy. You can thank me later.”

“Surprise.” Bobby’s smile matches Chim’s. 

“How do we know he’s good?”

Chim snorts and Hen’s eyebrows raise. 

“Don’t offend me, Buckley.”

“He’s more than competent.” Bobby’s turned back to Buck. 

Buck faintly recognizes the name, but he can’t place the face to any relevant information. He’s not an All Star, so Buck doesn’t know him, but he isn’t arrogant enough to share that with the class. 

“Six points in the playoffs last year. Thirty-five assists in the season on the third line.”

“Undrafted, too.” Chim is peachy with amusement. 

Buck huffs and Hen laughs openly. 

Bobby’s stifling his laughter at least. “Calm down, Mr. Second Overall. You’ll like him.”

— — — 

Buck does not like him. He wants really badly to hate him, in fact. 

He feels like a whiny child. He had to prove himself for months when he joined the team. He had to claw his way into trust. But Eddie walks in and what?

Everyone loves him. They accept him for who he is. 

Buck’s caught between jealousy and resentment. He’s ready for their shooting drills to start so he can gloat in Diaz’s ineptitude. 

But their passes connect. And he’s not just good, he’s smart and quick. He knows where Buck will be and after a few tries, he gets the puck right on Buck’s tape. But Buck can't score. 

“Stop showing off.” There’s no hesitation in Diaz’s tone. “You should have gone five-hole, but instead you went glove side, even though you know that’s one of the hardest ways to score on Chim.”

Oh my god, he’s using nicknames already. Not even Chimney. _Chim._

He’s right about the shot, and Buck hates it. He hates that Diaz can waltz in and look through Buck like he’s transparent. 

“I don’t need your advice, Diaz.” 

There’s a snort and eye roll responding to Buck. 

“We can’t be on the same line if you’re going to bite my head off every time I tell you what you’re too stubborn to admit is true.”

Buck frowns. 

“And if you call me Diaz, don’t expect me to reply.”

“No clever nickname?” He knows what hockey’s like. Everyone has a nickname, even Hen. Bobby, Chim, TK from college. Buck instead of Evan, both a mask and a way to broadcast their closeness, the fact that they’re a _team._

“Just Eddie.”

Eddie. Not Diaz. Just Eddie. Buck doesn’t know what to do with that, but it rolls off his tongue nicely. 

— — —

They survive camp and unsurprisingly Eddie doesn’t get cut or sent down. Buck doesn’t either, and they stay on the same line, too. 

The season opens with a win in overtime. Eddie to Buck, five-hole on a breakaway. 

Eddie doesn’t say _I told you so._ Bobby does though. 

“I told you you’d like him.”

Eddie finds him in the dressing room when Buck’s showered and done with the press. 

“You’re strong. And smart. You were a badass in OT. I’ll be on your wing anytime.”

Buck blushes. “Or you know, you can be on mine.” He blanches when he realizes how stupid that sounded. Chim is thrilled in the stall beside him. 

— — —

Things settle after their first road trip. Their flight is delayed because of bad weather and they lost and the weather is shit and Buck’s tired, he’s so tired. He’s sick of the Avalanche and he hates Denver and their stupid snow storms in October. 

Everyone’s eyes are hollowed, but Eddie looks especially on edge. When they finally get home and into the parking lot of the Staples Center, Buck hears a frustrated laugh from Eddie. 

“Everything okay?”

“My fucking battery died and my tire’s flat.” He’s glaring at his car as though pure anger could will it into working. 

“I’ll drive you home, c’mon.” Eddie's shoulders sag with relief, the tension visibly started to ease out. 

Buck’s gracious for the company if he’s being honest. Even though he’s tired, he doesn’t feel any reason to rush home. It’s not like there’s anyone or anything waiting for him. 

The drive is slow and Eddie’s checking the clock obsessively. It’s just past eleven and this seems to bother him immensely. 

“Hot date?” Buck jokes. 

Eddie takes a break from glaring at the clock to smile briefly. 

“With a nine year old. Who should definitely be in bed by now.”

Oh. Buck didn’t know Eddie had a son. 

“You have a kid? I love kids.” He’s earnest when he says it. 

“Well I love this one. But this is the first roadie since the move...”

“Ah. He nervous?”

Eddie snorts. “He’s not. I am. He used to stay with my parents, but he’s with my Abuela now and I’m just — I’m on edge. I don’t want to overwhelm either of them.”

Buck gets it. The travel and weird hours are stressful and he’s seen how tense some of the team gets when they leave for week long trips, especially when they have kids,or significant others waiting for them back in LA. 

The second they pull up to the house, Eddie’s undoing his seatbelt and flinging the door open. He sees a woman, presumably Eddie’s Abuela in the doorway, and a child throwing himself at Eddie. 

Buck sees how happy Eddie is when he spins his son around. 

He feels awkward interrupting the moment but Eddie’s left his bag in the backseat and Buck’s pretty sure he’ll want his toiletries and wallet for the morning. 

“It is way past your bedtime. You’re lucky it’s not a school night.” Eddie goes for stern, but Buck can tell how relieved he is to see his son, to hold him after days of travel and long, infuriating games. 

“I begged Abuela.” His son’s grinning and popping his dimples. 

“Pushover,” Eddie mumbles. 

Buck stays pressed against the side of his truck and he can’t pull his eyes off the porch and how Eddie stays crouched down to talk to his kid, his kid who he seems reluctant to let go of. 

“I got you a souvenir in Nashville, but I’m not sure if boys who stay up hours past their bedtimes get presents.” It’s such an empty threat. 

His kid makes grabby hands at Eddie and Buck finds himself smiling along with them. 

Eddie finally remembers they’re not alone and he turns to Buck with an unreadable expression. Buck offers the bag out to him. 

“Figured you’d want this.”

“Thank you.” Eddie’s voice is softer than he’s ever heard it. 

“Christopher, c’mere. Wanna meet my friend?” 

His friend, Buck likes how that sounds.

The kid bounces over. Buck wasn’t lying. He loves kids and he loves how Eddie melts around his son, like nothing else in the world could possibly matter. 

Buck shifts down to be at Christopher’s eye level and sticks his hand out when Eddie starts introductions. 

“This is Buck. Buck, meet Christopher.”

Chris laughs when he shakes Buck’s hand in faux formality. 

“Buck’s a funny nickname.”

Buck shrugs. “I’m a funny guy, I guess. Do you have a nickname?”

“Just Chris. Daddy calls me Superman sometimes though.”

Eddie beams at them. 

“That’s a pretty cool nickname if you ask me.”

“For a cool kid,” Eddie assures. “Except it’s time for bed, c’mon. Say goodnight so I can go to sleep, too.”

Chris pouts at Eddie before focusing on Buck again. 

“Night, Bucky!”

When Buck gets back to his apartment the space doesn’t feel as empty as before. 

— — — 

It’s slow like that. They’re friends, but Buck has a nagging voice in the back of his head. His eyes are always drawn to Eddie, and he can’t articulate why.

Sometimes Eddie goes out with the team, but he stays tucked into the booths and nurses a beer or two. He doesn’t drink like the rookies, or trade war stories like the vets. He doesn’t pick up either, but he stays longer than the old and married guys like Bobby. 

Buck could ask, it wouldn’t be so hard. But he doesn’t know where to start. 

It’s still all over his mind when they head out for their third road trip. Buck takes his normal seat next to Hen and he gets through half a chapter of questions before he cracks. 

“What do you know about Eddie?”

Hen barely looks up from her book. 

“To start, he’s sitting three rows away.”

Buck sighs. 

“But like —” he’s scrambling. 

Hen tuts. “So, you want to know if he’s single.”

Buck gawks. “No. _No_.”

Hen goes back to highlighting without breaking a sweat. 

“He doesn’t wear a ring.”

Buck knows this. He scoped this out the second after their truce began. And his Abuela watches Chris when they’re on the road, not a wife or girlfriend. Hen hums in understanding. 

“What are you getting at here, Buckaroo?”

Buck wishes he knew. 

When they land in Winnipeg, Buck’s knee is bouncing anxiously and Hen looks like she’s one second away from tying him down. It’s late, but not late enough to call it a night. 

Buck’s rooming alone on this trip and for once he isn’t grateful. He wouldn’t mind the din of another person padding around a hotel room. The squeak of a shower knob, hangers clacking together in a closet, tv fuzz and the click of a remote going up and down between channels. 

He could bother Chim, but Buck knows he’s winded after their last string of games. Overtimes and a shootout, the media was ripping into him because of some bad bounces and shoddy defending. 

Buck knows Bobby keeps to a routine. He unfolds his suit for the next day, calls Athena, and dozes off to the Discovery channel. Hen’s probably calling Karen. 

He could call Maddie, but she had an early shift and Buck doesn’t want to feel like a burden. He feels lonely though. He feels restless. 

He even contemplates seeking out the rookies and joining whatever video game tournament they’re inevitably holding amongst themselves. But he can’t make himself do it. 

Buck gets through ten minutes of pacing around his hotel room before he cracks. Before he knows it, his hand is poised in front of Eddie’s door and he’s knocking hesitantly. 

There’s a toothbrush in his mouth and shaving cream stuck under his jaw when the door opens. Eddie seems a bit surprised when everything registers. 

“Buck. Hi.”

Buck feels sheepish all of a sudden. But honesty is the best policy, right?

“I’m going to go insane if I spend all night alone in my room.” His face goes pink when Eddie grins, toothbrush dangling from his mouth still. 

“I could use the company.”

They watch a movie and Buck is still vibrating out his skin. He’s sitting rigidly on the opposite end of the bed. He could have taken the desk chair but it looked dirty and uncomfortable. 

Eddie’s arm snaps out and covers Buck’s knee with his palm. “Stop.”

Buck stills. 

“Buck, calm down. Talk to me.”

He finally relaxes, shifting to sit back against the headboard. 

And he talks. He talks about anything other than the gnawing restlessness he can’t shake. Buck tells Eddie about Maddie and even a little about Doug. He recounts college and winning the Beanpot with TK, getting plastered on dollar beers with TK. He talks about Pennsylvania, but only about Hershey. He skirts around the subject of Pittsburgh, but Eddie doesn’t press. 

Eddie’s responsive, even if he’s quiet. He laughs at Buck’s stories and encourages him when he talks about Maddie and how special she is, how much he loves her. 

In return, Eddie tells Buck about his sisters. Eddie’s from Texas, Buck forgot this somehow. El Paso’s a long way from Dallas, but compared to everywhere else they could have shipped him off to, it doesn’t seem so bad. 

Buck tries to imagine Eddie in victory green and it makes him laugh when Eddie passes his phone over to pull up a photo of him and Chris after a game. Chris has a matching jersey on where he’s settled on Eddie’s hip on the ice, and their smiles are blinding. 

“Green is not your color, bro.”

“Man, fuck off.”

“Chris is cute, though. Hope you got him a new sweater. You know, if not, I could arrange for a #18 jersey to find its way to your house.”

Eddie’s eyes roll and he shoves at Buck. “Don’t even joke, he’d probably die of excitement.”

They’ve spent more time together, but nothing serious. Eddie brought Chris to a barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s and Buck spent most of the night debating the ideal starter Pokémon with Chris. It was a pretty solid night if Buck has to say so, and he will. He does. 

“It’s late. Shit.” The movie ended at some point and morphed into local newscasts. Apparently there’s a new farmers market opening in Winnipeg, who knew. “I should go back to my room. Let you get some beauty sleep.”

Eddie swats him. “I think you mean you, you’re the pretty boy out of the two of us.” Eddie’s mouth stills half open like he can’t believe he just said that. 

Buck preens. It’s a joke he’s heard before, but it feels different coming from Eddie. Does Eddie think he’s _pretty_? Buck’s concerned about how much he wants the answer to be yes. 

— — — 

It happens the next night in Edmonton, and again in Calgary. On the flight to Vancouver Eddie takes the seat next to Buck. 

“Watch out,” he warns. “Hen might kick your ass for taking her seat.”

It’s like college and the unassigned assigned seats and how irritated Buck would feel when he’d come to his 8 a.m. and there'd be some Birkenstock wearing dude in his usual seat. 

“Chill. She’s up with Chim. He’s making her watch E.R. and rank how realistic the scenes are.”  
Goalies are weird, Chim is not exception.

“Oh. Well I won’t say no to the company.”

He knocks their shoulders together when Eddie sits down. It’s a short flight, but Buck finds himself nodding off anyway. 

Eddie nudges him awake before landing. “Up and at ‘em, sleeping beauty.”

“Thanks.” Buck rubs the back of his neck. Surely sleeping folded up on a plane is not good for his posture, but he’s way past taking fastidious care of his body. Someone slashed the shit out of him in Edmonton and he feels the phantom bruise from the pressure of his pads lingering on his forearm. 

“Calling Chris when we get to the hotel?” It’s not too late, they snatched an afternoon game against the Flames. Buck’s grateful. He’s FaceTiming Maddie when he lands so she can go over rugs and decorative pillows for her new place. 

Eddie’s face lights up reflexively. “Yeah. He had show-and-tell yesterday, so I’ll be getting the full play by play tonight.”

“Cute.” 

Eddie wrinkles his nose at that. “You’re as bad as Abuela. Sap.”

Whoops. Guilty as charged. 

When they taxi after landing, Buck grabs Eddie’s wrist briefly. “Maddie’s moving into her new place next weekend. Do you wanna help me move some stuff in? I'll make it worth your while.”

And oh God, why did Buck’s gerbil sized brain say it like that?

“Tell me more.”

“Deep dish and extra toppings, my treat.”

Eddie nudges Buck’s arm. “Of course. Rope Chim in, too. He needs to stop skipping arm day.”

There’s a squawk from a few rows back. 

“Heard that, Diaz. Count your days, man.” 

— — — 

Buck will literally never say this again, but moving in Maddie’s stuff is fun. Like, alright, twisting the couch through the doorway was less than ideal, but it’s nice to sprawl across her new rug and trade takeout containers with the people who are rapidly becoming the most important people in his life. 

The team is his family now, and Maddie’s his first and favorite family. Buck’s chest tightens at how easily the two mesh together. 

“He is so cute,” Maddie gushes when they refill drinks in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, he gets that a lot. You should see him with his kid.”

“Chimney has a kid?”

Maddie walks off before Buck can stutter out a reply. Huh. 

— — — 

They’re building gingerbread houses when Chris pops the question. Buck isn’t expecting it. He was busy showing him and Denny how to mix royal icing to get the perfect cement for roof construction. 

“Bucky, can I spend Christmas with you?”

He freezes. He doesn’t know if Eddie’s in ear shot where he’s beside Hen at the kitchen table. 

They have a few days off for the Holiday, but Eddie’s been taking increasingly stressful calls from his parents for the past week. They want him to come back to Texas, but there’s hardly enough time for that. Half the time would be spent shuffling through airports and praying flights don’t get delayed.

“Hey,” he nudges Chris. “Your dad will be here, right? Just because all your cousins won’t be here, doesn’t mean Christmas won’t be special.”

Chris is quietly in thought beside him. “Are you spending Christmas with your dad and mom?”

Buck freezes. “I’ve got all the family I need right here.” 

“You could come over on Christmas though. I have to give you your gift.” 

Buck’s heart might burst. He turns and scans Eddie’s face, but Buck can’t decipher the look in Eddie’s eyes when they meet his. 

“I’ll ask your dad, how about that?” 

— — — 

Buck does come over on Christmas, and he does bring Chris a jersey with a crisp _Buckley 18_ on the back. He went all out and got the reverse retro one too because Chris told him how much he liked them a few weeks back. 

He throws on the purple and gold and clings to Buck in a tight hug. 

“Do you like it?”

“I _love_ it. Thanks, Bucky.”

Eddie and his Abuela are wiping down the kitchen but Buck feels their eyes on him. 

Eddie hugs him on his way out the door. “Narcissist,” he teases. “He’s never going to take it off.”

”That’s the point.”

It makes Buck stupidly happy even though he refuses to address how it felt to see his last name across Christopher’s back. He won’t trick himself into believing what he dreams about at night, more often lately, about how Buck fits into Eddie’s life. 

The team is his family, but he’s close to Eddie in a way he isn’t to anyone else, even Bobby. All those things the media says about him, he wishes they were all true. 

How Buck and Eddie became _Buck &Eddie _, names slotted together in a way that feels so natural. 

Chim called them an old married couple in a post game interview and now the team crows it at them after games. The NHL network calls them a dynamic duo. Bleacher Report picks up a quote Buck barely remembers saying, but it’s true nonetheless. 

“I’d follow Eddie to the ends of the earth,” he said. “He works harder than anyone else I know. I don’t know where I’d be without him.”

Buck flushes when Maddie texts him a link and a string of eye emojis. Whatever, he’s not taking heat from someone stealth dating their star goalie. 

— — — 

“You never pick up.” 

It’s months later and they’re on the cusp of the playoffs, fighting tooth and nail for each point. 

It’s not an accusation. Eddie says it simply. They’re tucked into a bar in Columbus. Buck’s been on edge. Pittsburgh is next. It’s been years but whenever they cross the state lines the wound reopens and Buck’s helpless to do nothing else but pick at the scab. 

Eddie’s words make him freeze. Chim and Bobby not so subtly pause their conversation to listen in. 

“Uh. Is that bad?”

“No, just —” Eddie looks embarrassed, it’s a rare look for him. “You don’t have a girlfriend and I just figured...”

Oh. This must be about all the rumors from before. Buck grinds his teeth before answering. 

“I didn’t think you of all people would believe the gossip.”

“No, Buck. Evan, come on.”

Buck snaps his jaw shut and squares his shoulder. Chim’s giving him a warning look behind Eddie. 

“Eddie. Drop it.” Bobby’s voice is sudden and stern. 

“No, it’s fine, Bobby. Tell me, Eddie, why are you bringing this up? Do you want to know about Buck 1.0? I can tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Buck,” Chim cautions. 

Buck shoulders out of the booth and stares Eddie down. He’s refusing to meet Buck’s eyes. Buck feels slimy and fraught with exasperation. 

Buck’s words and clipped and short. “I’m calling an Uber and going back to the hotel.” 

He’s walking away when he hears Chim and Bobby reprimanding Eddie. 

“Dumbass. You have to pull this now? You _know_ how he gets going back to Pittsburgh.” 

They’re not wrong. Eddie should know. He spent their last road trip out East eating his weight in minibar candies and rehashing that Fourth of July when everything fell apart. He told Eddie all the embarrassing but true parts of the next months. About how he licked his wounds and struggled to find himself in California. About how much everything hurt all the time, how he can never escape that feeling of being unwanted.

Eddie had listened patiently and without judgement. Where does he get off pulling this shit now?

Buck side steps Eddie on the plane the next morning. He plops down next to Hen and catches up on her studying. She shoots him concerned looks, especially when Eddie slinks to the bathroom and lingers around their row. 

Buck pretends to be very interested in the flashcards in front of him. 

“You can’t ignore him forever.” Hens right. The pulsing ache behind Buck’s eyes tells him as much.

“I just need a moment. I can’t handle it right now.”

“So talk to him. The last thing you need is more stress today.”

They have the rest of the day off when they land and Buck isn’t surprised to find Eddie hanging around outside his hotel room. 

“Let’s go out,” he tells Buck. “Take me somewhere good.”

Buck’s jaw clicks shut. 

“Please,” Eddie adds. Buck can’t say no to that.

They settle into their meal quietly. Buck can feel someone across the restaurant looking, almost as if they’re trying to place his face to a memory. It doesn’t excite him like it used to.

Eddie poaches him when Buck’s just shoved half a sandwich into his mouth.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I said that. I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve never believed any of the rumors. They’re bullshit. The people saying those things don’t know you.”

The words rush out of Eddie’s mouth 

Buck’s throat feels dry. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says again. 

“It hurt, is all. I don’t want you to think of me like that.”

Buck’s changed. He doesn’t want one night flings or champagne showers at dingy bars anymore. He wants somewhere safe, somewhere he can be completely himself without feeling judged. 

He wants a family. He wants Eddie and Christopher. 

“I don’t.”

“Then why’d you even say it?”

Eddie flounders for a moment. “I was wondering, is all. You get plenty of attention, but it’s like you don’t even see it. Are you seeing someone?”

Buck pffts back. If he was seeing some, Eddie would know. They have the exact same schedule, and Buck spends all his free time divided between Maddie and the Diaz boys.

“No.” Buck hesitates when he answers. Eddie doesn’t miss it. 

“But you want to be?”

How does he answer that? He wishes for once that Eddie didn’t know him so well. He wishes he could deflect and blow it off easily. 

“It’s complicated.” He doesn’t want to lie, not to Eddie. But he can’t say the whole truth. Not now. Not here, not in the city that tore his heart out and stomped all over it. He can’t take another hit here. There’s too much to lose. 

“There’s someone. But it’s stupid. They’ll never look at me that way.”

Eddie frowns. He’s choosing his words carefully. “Then they’re stupid.”

Buck’s hands are suddenly clammy and he’s not as hungry anymore. He needs to change the subject. 

“I used to come here all the time,” he offers. “Maddie would drive up somewhat often during my rookie season and we’d spend the weekends roaming the city, just seeing what was out there.”

He hasn’t thought about that in years. The memory feels so precious and dear when he remembers it now. It’s a bright spot in the way his heart clamps down on the memories of the city, the team, and the increasingly unimpressed looks from the front office. 

Eddie takes the olive branch. “I see why you like it here. It’s calm.”

Buck’s chest loosens when they head back to the hotel. Eddie hesitates as they step out of the elevator.

“Do you want to —”

Eddie doesn’t need to finish his sentence. 

“Don’t be stupid. We need to catch up on Alaskan Bush people.”

Eddie’s mouth twitches. His demeanor is open and he isn’t as wound up as he was before. 

— — —

The game goes differently than Buck expected. Eddie blows them out of the water. 

He scores a hat trick and Buck throws them against the glass and he holds on so tightly he doesn’t think the hand fisted in the collar of Eddie’s jersey will ever let go.

Buck has assists on all the goals and he can’t stop grinning. Then he scores short handed and it feels so good. He feels good. He feels like he’s enough. All the achy insecurities that tore him apart years ago are faded to black. 

Buck feels limitless. He feels like nothing could stop him. 

He speeds through media. They all want to talk to him. He recognizes some of the beat reporters from before. They called him a problem and a distraction from the team. Now they’re pushing mics excitedly into Buck’s sweaty, blissed out face, asking how it feels to be the prodigal son. 

Buck can’t stop touching Eddie. He’s bouncing around the dressing room and he knows the comedown will be brutal and he’ll be dead in his tracks when they hit Buffalo tomorrow, but he doesn’t _care_. 

Eddie’s just as bad. 

“You’re both show offs,” Chim teases. He nearly got a shutout though, so he’s one to talk. 

They don’t go out, so Buck uses all that energy to push Eddie into his room and flick on the tv. 

“You choose the channel.” Buck tosses Eddie the remote. 

He’s stripping off his shirt and he’s caught off guard when Eddie’s blushing and ducking away when Buck catches him looking. 

He looks like he's about to say something when his phone buzzes loudly against the night stand. “Shit.” 

It’s Chris. “Is Bucky there?” He opens with. 

“Chris, manners.”

Chris sighs. “Hi, daddy. Is Bucky there?” 

Buck throws himself onto the bed beside Eddie. Their legs are tangled together in this position and their arms keep brushing against each other. 

“Hi, Superman.”

“Buck! I watched the game!”

“Did you see your dad’s hat trick.”

“Yeah, it was cool. But I liked your goal!”

Buck laughs giddily. “I wore the jersey for extra good luck.” And sure enough Buck sees deep purple and gold fabric in the bottom of the frame. “Daddy said you might be sad on this trip.”

“I needed it.” Buck’s voice feels wobbly suddenly. He can’t ignore how badly he wants this. He wants the domestic world of Chris and Eddie. He wants to wake up in their house. 

Buck wants to do all the mundane chores. He wants to pack lunches and go to parent teacher conferences and complain about drastic PTA drama. 

Chris is returning his focus to Eddie now and Buck lets the sound wash over him. He doesn’t know when his eyelids started to droop, but he feels the exhaustion wash over him. 

He’s crashing. All the excitement from before has drained him. 

He wakes up to Eddie shaking him, the call already disconnected. “Clothes off, let’s go.”

“Trying to get me naked, Diaz?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the name. “Trying to make sure you don’t wrinkle your last clean suit pants by sleeping in them. Plus you’re on the bed sideways.”

“Oh.” Buck kicks off his pants and falls back on the bed regularly. “‘M so tired.”

“Me too”

Eddie’s folding Buck’s pants over the desk chair and moving his shoes out of the optimal tripping zone. 

Buck’s eyes are slipping shut again. Today has been so long and he’s so tired. He’s so happy. 

“Don’t go,” Buck pleads. He isn’t ready to let go of this. He wants Eddie’s heat beside him. 

Eddie pauses for a second. “Okay.” He holds himself carefully. Buck throws the covers open. 

“I’m taking this side.” He feels the bed dip beside him and that’s all he remembers before succumbing to his sleepiness. 

— — —

He wakes up with an arm around his waist. Buck can hear the soft rhythm of Eddie breathing behind him. 

He shuts his eyes. They can sleep in a little longer. The plane won’t leave for a couple more hours. 

Eddie’s breathing stutters and he tightens his grip before realizing what he’s doing. He stills quickly. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. His voice is deep and scratchy with sleep. Buck’s obsessed with it. 

Buck flips over so they’re facing each other on their sides. It feels intimate, like this is just for them. 

“You’re amazing,” Buck blurts out. He grimaces and shuts his eyes. 

Eddie doesn’t run away though. His hand reaches out and slides up Buck’s cheek instead. 

He’s cradling Buck’s face when his eyes open. Eddie's face is open and raw with emotion. It’s more than Buck can handle. 

Before Buck can process it, Eddie’s pulling them closer and he’s kissing Buck light and chaste, as if he’s scared Buck might freak out and push him away. 

Buck doesn’t do that. He urges Eddie closer and moves his lips eagerly against Eddie’s. 

“I love you,” Eddie sighs when they pull apart. It’s Buck’s turn to not freeze or run away. He doesn’t freak out. 

Something settles within Buck. He’s wanted this for so long and it feels better than he ever imagined to have Eddie breathing those words into his mouth. 

Eddie kisses him again, happily against the side of his mouth, off centered and sweet. Then his cheek, the line between his eyebrows. 

Buck slides closer, impossibly closer. He kisses Eddie senseless. 

“I love you. Obviously.”

Eddie nips at him in reply, but his smile is splitting his face. 

“You’re the one I want.” Buck tucks his neck into Eddie’s neck. “No one else. Just you.”

Eddie tightens the arm he’s thrown back over Buck’s side. 

The alarm beeps before anything else can happen. Buck groans. 

Eddie chuckles and Buck feels it when his chest rumbles. 

“We need to shower,” Eddie advises. Buck is too busy sliding his lips over Eddie’s pulse point. “Jesus, Evan.”

Buck crowds Eddie into the shower. He slides soapy fingers into Eddie’s hair and lets shampoo wash away the remaining sweat from last night's hasty postgame shower. 

Eddie pushes Buck against the glass shower door. It’s not optimal. This space isn’t big enough for them both. He’s half out of the spay and he misses the heat of Buck’s body and the showerhead. It’s a sharp contrast between the nearly scalding water and the whirring, too cold hotel air conditioning. 

When Eddie’s fingers wander over Buck’s chest he hears an aborted whimper escaping Buck. 

“Desperate.” He’s teasing. “We can go slow.” He’s searching Buck’s face for any hesitation. 

“Think we’ve been going slow for months.”

Eddie pinches his side.

“You don’t know how much I’ve thought of this,” Buck sighs out.

“Fuck. You can’t just say that.”

Buck fights off a grin. “Get me to shut up then.”

Eddie doesn’t back down from that. He practically swallows Buck’s tongue and brings his hands to Buck’s hips to bring their bodies together. 

“Later.” Eddie’s pushing himself up slightly, whispering against Buck’s ear. 

“No fair.” 

“Patience is a virtue.”

“And?” 

Eddie takes a step back and Buck can see the moment he makes himself restrain his movements. 

Eddie’s reaching for a towel when Buck turns half towards him. “If you can’t help me, I’ll do it myself.” His hand is wandering south. 

“Buck,” Eddie warns. 

“You can be patient. But I won’t.” His hand closes around his dick and he pumps himself slowly. 

“We’re going to be late.” Eddie doesn’t sound as concerned as before. Buck’s hand is still moving and he sees the conflict written on Eddie's face. His eyes are wandering between the slackness of Buck’s mouth and the tight movements of his hand. 

“Skipping breakfast one day won’t kill me.”

Buck doesn’t care about soggy hotel eggs and the overly greasy slices of bacon Hen scolds him for shoveling onto his plate. 

Buck sees when Eddie screws his eyes shut as if the sight of Buck is too much. Buck doesn’t care if his breathing is suddenly ragged and a little too loud. He’s panting like he just got bag skated to hell and back, but Eddie is hard and there’s water sliding down his abs and really, what’s Buck to do with that?

“Fuck, I need to go.” 

Buck frowns at that. “Is this too fast?”

Eddie laughs. “No, but. But if I don’t leave I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

“So don’t.”

Eddie rests his head against Buck’s, letting his fingers sweep against his cheek. 

“Buck.”

“Eddie.”

“Later,” he promises. “When we’re home. Let me do this right.”

Buck grumbles. “Okay, yeah.” He clears his throat. “I need to take care of this, though. So if you don’t want to see this, you should, uh, probably leave.”

Buck’s not waiting until they land in Buffalo to do this. He’s wound up and a little desperate, and he’s probably sure the team would not approve of him starting a fight with the Sabres because he’s sexually frustrated. 

Eddie’s eyes roam over his body before he breathes in. “Right. I’m going to — I’m going to go.” He looks pained to slide out of the shower and tie a towel around his waist. 

When Buck comes out of the shower there’s spots of color high on his cheeks. He feels loose and sated. Eddie’s nearly dressed and he’s tying his shoes tightly and with a scary amount of focus. 

“I swiped your card, sorry. I left my clothes in my room.”

Eddie has his light grey suit on. It’s the one he wears on the plane when he knows the team might snap photos of them for social media. They’re certainly going to do that today. 

“Mr. Hat-trick,” Buck teases.

“Don’t be jealous. You could have gone all Gordie Howe, all you needed was a fight.”

“I’ll leave the fighting to you.”

Eddie straightens up and smoothes out his suit. It makes his eyes look deep and stunning. Buck smiles like a fool when pulls boxers on to dry his hair with his towel. Eddie’s watching him obviously. 

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“Hurry up. Or you’ll be walking to Buffalo.”

Buck scoffs. “Bobby would never do that to me.”

— — —

The Sabres game sucks. They make it to the third scoreless on both sides. Chim is carrying the team and Buck fans on an easy shot that makes him sloppy and angry for his next few shifts. 

When they get back to the hotel, he glances at Eddie. He knows Eddie wants to wait till they get home and can do this right, but Buck wants Eddie’s presence and company. He wants whatever he can get. 

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice is so gentle when he corners Buck outside the elevators. Hen’s fake gagging as she walks past them. 

“I’m going to call Chris, want to come? He’s reading over his book report.”

Buck’s heart flutters briefly. His smile is crooked when he opens his mouth. 

“Oh, so you need my help because I’ve actually read the book, and you haven’t.”

“You say that like you’re proud to have a fifth grade reading level.”

“Hey, hey. Only one of us went to an Ivy League.”

Eddie’s mouth smoothes out without amusement. “BU is not an Ivy, and it doesn’t count if you only went there for a month.”

Buck squawks. “First of all, it was nine months, and it’s not my fault I was fielding contract offers.”

“That makes all the difference, huh?”

Chim pops his head out his doorway.

“Can’t you take this to one of your rooms. Some of us are having private conversations. In private. Unlike you two.”

“Private conversation? That sounds interesting, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Real interesting. Who could this private conversation be with.” 

Chim groans. 

“Let’s ask Eddie. Eddie, who do you think this call’s with?”

Before Eddie can open his mouth Chim is smashing his head into the doorframe, pillowing his hand against his forehead to stop any actual damage. 

“I don’t understand how you and Maddie are related.”

Bobby chooses this moment to round the corner and freeze momentarily with his now filled ice bucket under his arm. “If any of you aren’t bleeding or in imminent danger, then I don’t want to know.”

Bobby’s arm is moving to point at Buck before any sound comes out. “That means you too, Buck.”

Buck grumbles in defeat.

“I don’t care what you do, just stop doing it out here” Bobby instructs.

“Yeah, Chim, go call your girlfriend,,” Buck sing-songs.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you two.”

Buck pretends to not know what that means.

“Why don’t you two go call your son.”

Buck turns beet red and he’s pretty sure Bobby is stifling a laugh as he unlocks his door.

Eddie’s pulling him down the hallway and shouting a quick goodbye over their shoulders before Buck can put his foot even further in his mouth.

“Before you say it, don’t apologize.” Eddie’s already starting to undress in the methodical way he always does. He starts with his tie, then moves his belt before stripping everything else off. He returns his clothes to hangars, unlike Buck who balls everything up and hopes for the best when he has to wake up and wear everything again.

Eddie’s working on his undershirt when he carries on. “I’m pretty sure Chris likes you more than me at this point.”

There’s a wry twist of his lips when Eddie shoots a look across the room. Buck’s flopped down on the mattress and is toying with his tie instead of actually taking it off.

“Don’t even joke. You’re his dad.”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice is warm and syrupy sweet when he comes to stand in front of Buck. “But you’re his Buck.”

Buck covers his face with his arm. He doesn’t want Eddie to see the rush of emotions overtaking his face. Eddie pulls on his arm. “Up.”

Buck pushes up onto his elbows and lets Eddie kneel in front of him and undo his tie and loosen the top buttons of Buck’s dress shirt. “Go shower,” Eddie suggests. “I’ll call Chris and you can join later for the dramatic reading of his essay.”

Buck flops back against the mattress. Eddie is not impressed.

“If you do it I’ll let you steal my minibar snickers.” Okay, Buck can work with bribery.

“Positive reinforcement.”

“Pushover,” Buck corrects.

When Buck comes out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam bursts out behind him. He’s half dressed and the T Shirt feels sticky and humid on his skin when he pulls it over his arms.

Eddie’s listening to Chris and planning their next days off. There’s a week and a half long homestand coming up and Buck is so, so thankful. He’s tired of the East Coast and the slightly displacing time difference. He wants his bed and he really, really wants Eddie there. Patience is not one of his virtues, he’s already told Eddie as much.

“Where’s Bucky?”

“Here, here! Hi Chris! Is it book report time?”

Chris giggles. “I wanted to wait for you. Dad’s not very helpful with grammar. And he doesn’t get what the book is about. He doesn’t even know about Camp Green Lake!”

Buck puffs his chest in exaggerated distrust. “Well, we can’t have that. Luckily, I know all about Camp Green Lake _and_ Madam Zeroni. Plus, I’m good at grammar, I took a whole English class at —”

“If you wax poetic about BU one more time, I am going to kick you out of my room.”

Buck pouts. “Don’t be mean. Chris told me he wants to be a Terrier too one day.”

“He did not say that. Stop indoctrinating my kid.”

Chris interrupts them. “ _Bucky_. It’s almost dinner time. Can you help me?”

Eddie has another weird look on his face when Buck takes over the call and walks through the whole presentation, listening dutifully to every sentence and helping Chris rewrite some things. He helps Chris without overriding him. It’s thoughtful and encouraging and Buck can see Eddie watching them intently.

When the call ends, Buck is wiped. 

“Time to go?”

Eddie shakes his head. He’s the one to say “don’t go this time.” Sleeping next to Eddie and tucked into his chest, Buck’s afraid of going back to a life without this. 

— — —

Buck wants to throw a party when they touch down in Los Angeles. 

“You’re starting to freak me out.” Hen’s been eyeing him the whole flight home. He offered to go through a chapter of flashcards, but Hen had turned him down “No one should look this happy after a red-eye flight.”

He flicks his eyes around the plane before leaning in to whisper to Hen. Everyone’s groggy and pulling their stuff together so they can be freed of the recycled air of an airplane full of hockey players.

“I have a date tonight.”

Buck thinks if Hen’s eyebrows could go any higher, they’d be clear off her face.

“Does Eddie know this?”

Buck falters. He feels thrown off, like when a roller coaster twists and slides upside down fast enough for your body to lift and push against the restraints. “Uh, why do you say that?”

Hen looks at him like Buck’s the one acting strangely.

“Because he’s in love with you. Totally obsessed.”

Buck blushes furiously. He knows that, but how does Hen.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know. When you missed the Florida road trip last month he was grumpy and wouldn’t shut up about you.”

Eddie didn’t mention this. He called one night and complained about the humid weather and weird set up of the BB&T center, which Buck agrees with,like, who builds an ugly-ass arena next to the _Everglades_ , it’s stupid. 

Eddie did not mention his sulking and, apparently, his pining for Buck. Buck is delighted by this tidbit. 

“I mean, yeah. He knows. Obviously.”

Understanding dawns on Hen’s face. She’s pleased suddenly. “I get it now. Your date is with Eddie.”

“You’re so _embarrassing_.”

“I love seeing my Buckaroo in love. It’s disgusting, but it’s cute.”

Buck doesn’t correct her. Bobby’s reaching into the overhead compartment next to them and patiently waiting for Hen and Buck to realize their surroundings. 

“Do you mind?” Bobby asks. He always waits to be last off the plane. He’s a good captain. It makes Buck proud. He likes standing beside someone like Bobby, having someone like that in his corner and rootin for him.

“Want to know what our little Buck is getting up to tonight?” 

Buck panics. It’s like when his mom caught him making out with his prom date on their porch. His hands feel sweaty and he wants to stutter out some sort of apology.

“Respectfully,” Bobby says. “I really do not want to know.”

— — —

Eddie’s waiting against Buck’s Jeep when he and Hen finally deboard. 

“Look who decided to show up. Did you get lost? It can be a long walk down the only aisle of the plane.”

“Hardy har har.”

Hen excuses herself and throws two thumbs up once she’s safely behind Eddie’s line of vision.

Eddie leans closer then. “I need to nap. And shower. But you can come over later? We can talk?”

Buck wants to do nothing else. He smells like plane and whatever breakfast burrito one of the defenseman smuggled onto the plane.

“I have a lunch thing with Maddie. But after that? I’m all yours.”

His hands have wondered to Eddie’s chest and his fingers are resting light on his lapels. Eddie clears his throat dryly. 

“You are going to be the death of me.”

— — —

Buck doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to Maddie launching a pillow at his face.

“You’re _so_ annoying, Madeline.”

Buck gets another pillow shoved in his face for the name calling.

“Get up, Evan. I’m hungry and you promised to have lunch with me thirty minutes ago.”

“Shit.”

Maddie sits on the foot of the bed and shoves at Buck’s legs one more time for good measure.

“I brought take out.”

“I take everything back. You’re the best sister ever.”

Buck has pillow lines across his face when he drags himself to the kitchen. 

“Plugged your phone in for you.” There’s a suspicious look on Maddie’s face.

“Thanks?”

“I like your wallpaper.”

“Oh. That.”

He’s suddenly embarrassed. If his lock screen is a photo someone nabbed of him, Eddie, and Chris at the family skate a few weeks back, well that’s between him and God and the girl at the Apple store that had to help him reset his iCloud password.

“Your crush is embarrassingly transparent. You know that, right?”

“It’s not a crush,” Buck grouses.

“Pining? Yearning? Take your pick instead.”

“He loves me,” Buck admits before he can chicken out. Maddie’s shocked for a second before she’s wrapping Buck in a tight hug. 

“While we’re admitting things, I’m dating Howie.” Buck snickers and grabs a container of lo mein. 

“Your crush was embarrassingly transparent. You know that right?”

Buck thinks his Maddie impression was fairly spot on, but he probably deserves the rice Maddie flicks at his face.

— — —

Buck might break some speeding laws when he heads towards Eddie’s house.

Chris opens the door while Buck’s just finished parking. Eddie’s laughing behind him.

“Someone was excited.”

Buck sniggers. “He’s not the only one.”

Eddie tries and fails to keep a straight face.

Chris waits expectantly for Buck to cross the threshold and take his place on the couch behind Chris.

“I need your help beating this gym leader.” Chris is pushing a Switch controller into Buck’s hand before he can ever settle into the couch. 

“Hey, you evolved mienfoo while I was gone!” Buck is genuinely excited by this and Eddie’s studying them with that goofy smile from before, the one he kept giving Buck when they’d roll out of bed together. “And you got Minccino. Someone was busy, huh?”

“You were gone forever,” Chris complains.

It was like five or six days, but Buck gets it. Chris isn’t as clingy as he was after the first few roadtrips, but he still doesn’t like Eddie’s absence all that much. Or Buck’s by the looks of it.

“How do you even remember all that?” Eddie asks when they throw dinner together. When he says they, Buck means him. He relegated Eddie to the duty of stirring the pasta every couple of minutes and watching the timers when Buck started chopping veggies.

Buck’s sheepish when he answers.

“It’s easy. And something to look forward to when I get checked into next week by a Blue Jacket I don’t even recognize.”

Eddie looks like he wants to say more but the microwave timer is beeping and there are dinner rolls that need to be pulled out and set aside to cool.

“Stir the pasta,” Buck suggests.

— — —

It feels like hours before they’re alone. Buck loves Chris with his whole heart, he truly does, but it’s driving him insane, this unfinished conversation with Eddie. 

He saw Eddie sudsy and hard in the shower a few days ago and Buck’s been thinking of it an embarrassingly frequent amount ever since. 

When Eddie says “Bed?” all Buck can do is enthusiastically agree. 

“Excited much?”

“I’ve been sleeping in bed with you for a week straight and jerking off in the shower is not as great as you might think.”

Eddie feigns disinterest, but Buck sees the way his eyes darken slightly.

As much as Buck wants Eddie heavy and hot above him, they need to have a Conversation with a capital C first.

“Are we doing this?” Buck’s voice is low and he hopes it doesn’t reveal how vulnerable he feels. He trusts Eddie, but Buck’s been left before. He practically has a gold medal in being left behind.

Eddie presses their hands together and Buck never wants to let go. 

“I want to.”

It fills Buck’s chest with warm but he hesitates again.

“What if I fuck up? I can’t lose this. Lose you and Chris.”

Eddie’s face softens.

“Never,” He promises. “No matter what happens.”

Eddie presses on. “I love you, okay? I don’t think that’s going to change.”

Buck crashes their lips together and drags Eddie closer to him. Their clothes are shed quickly and Buck is drunk with the sight of Eddie above him, against him, inside him.

Eddie hitches Buck’s up a little higher and Buck shivers.

“Yeah?”

Buck kisses the smug look off of Eddie.

“You’re not going to pull the same move as Pittsburgh, right? I don’t wanna finish this without you. Don’t think my fingers are ever going to live up to this.”

Eddie punctuates his groan with a deep, forceful thrust.

Buck’s not kidding. He can’t go back to his own fingers after knowing how thick and hot Eddie feels when using all his strength to pound into Buck. He’s ruined forever, probably.

“Shut up, Buck.”

“I think you like it when I talk, I think —” Buck trails off because Eddie isn’t letting up and he’s slipped a hand over Buck’s dick and is pulling shameless, reedy gasps out of him. Buck’s legs are starting to shake where Eddie’s holding him up. 

Buck wishes Eddie didn’t have to wear a condom. He wants to be marked up and claimed by Eddie. He tells Eddie this much and Buck’s getting harder, deeper thrust in return.

When Buck comes it feels like an epiphany. 

“Sacreligious,” Eddie warns.

“You like it.” And god help him, he really does. Eddie is helpless to do anything but unravel against Buck. 

“We should do that again.”

Eddie doesn’t know how Buck is so cognizant afterwards. He doesn’t know when Buck means by the comment. Again tonight, or again forever?

Eddie’s kissing up Buck’s shoulder praisingly. He bites down playfully and Buck laughs.

Buck’s never felt this before. He hasn’t felt complete like this with someone else. He feels safe. He feels wanted. 

“I love you.” Buck sighs. “Forgot to say it back earlier. Just to remind you.”

There’s an off centered kiss on Buck’s lips and another one pressing to Buck’s temple.

“So, we really are doing this?” 

“Shut up.” Eddie pulls Buck in closer. “Not going to let you go.”

Buck melts into his touch. He doesn’t care how sweaty and gross he is. He wants Eddie to never stop touching him.

“For how long?” Buck asks.

“As long as you'll have me. Forever, if you want.”

He calls his agent the next day and asks for a no-trade clause. He feels light and safe next to Eddie. 

Buck wants it. He wants it so much. And he takes it. He takes forever. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If u actually read all of this i love u and u deserve every gold star ever.
> 
> Notes on some hockey references because i will die retaining all this unnecessary knowledge. some of it can probably be inferred but here u go anyway, the longest end notes section ever:
> 
> \- 9-1-1 is too perfect for a hockey AU because everyone already uses stupid nickames  
> \- Buck wears number 18 because duh, it's too easy  
> \- Buck plays for the Boston University Terriers, Pittsburgh Penguins (kinda), and Los Angeles Kings, which are all, for better or for worse, real teams. Bobby is referenced having played previously for the Minnesota Wild, and Eddie the Dallas Stars  
> \- players who go to college and play in the NCAA typically get drafted after their freshman or sophomore years  
> \- Someone really did get scratched for missing team breakfast (https://twitter.com/nhlhails/status/1070751894614757377) and was traded on the fourth of july in the most dramatic 7 player trade ever lmfao  
> \- the Dallas Stars really do wear victory green, it's only slightly gaudy  
> \- the LA Kings reverse retro jersey buck buys christopher is AMAZING please look at them: http://lakingsinsider.com/2020/11/16/kings-unveil-new-reverse-retro-jerseys/  
> \- the Beanpot is the annual tournament between the big hockey universities in the Boston area  
> \- the NTDP is the US national team develop program because # USA hockey is do or die and take the gatorade in your glass because # we just kicked your fucking ass  
> \- the stanley cup does actually weigh 34.5 pounds  
> \- roughing is an actual penalty that exists because everything about hockey is so homoerotic for no good reason sometimes  
> \- five-hole is a shot between the gold tenders legs  
> \- a Gordie Howe hat trick is a goal, an assist, and a fight. shout out to a legend
> 
> I think thats everything but if you see some random shit and are like yo what the fuck are they even talking about, lmk
> 
> side note: this is the gayest shit to ever be connected to the la kings beside the carter-richards trade because ohhhh my good they were SOULMATES its the most unbelievable yet true saga of the nhl's best relationship ever because like "on the richards-carter relationship, one flyer told me: mike likes jeff, but jeff loves mike. carter can’t pack fast enough" and goddamn


End file.
